


As Natural as Breathing

by Nerdofmanytalents



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Accidental Courting, Accidental Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Gossip, betting pool of skyhold, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 23:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6927973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdofmanytalents/pseuds/Nerdofmanytalents
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by DA Kmeme prompt "Accidental Courting."</p>
<p>It all started with a nap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Natural as Breathing

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by DA Kmeme prompt: Accidental Courting
> 
> "Cullen and Trevelyan are courting each other/are a couple and don't even realize it."
> 
> Cross posted on my tumblr. Self edited, so please excuse any missed mistakes.

It all started with a nap.

 

After four weeks fighting apostates and templars, herding rams, closing rifts, and generally running every errand for every person in Thedas, Evelyn probably should have forgone her visit to Cullen’s office and gone directly to her quarters and not left for three days. Alas, against her body’s protestations, she made her way across the walkway to the Commander’s office, hoping to get a good discussion over their progress in before she succumbed to exhaustion.

 

Unsurprisingly, Cullen was meeting with several of his captains, going over watch schedules or something similar. Evelyn slipped into the room quietly, grabbing a book from his shelf as she snuck around behind him to use his chair. He turned for a moment, eyes questioning, but she waved him off before turning her attention to the book as she decided to wait him out rather than interrupt his meeting.

 

The discussion turned out to be improvements to Skyhold’s fortifications and the progress of the renovations within the keep. Somewhere around the discussion regarding the new trebuchets, she must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew she was slowly crawling back to consciousness, with a light blanket draped over her. Disoriented, it took her a moment to spot Cullen consulting some novel over at his bookshelf.

 

“I...goodness, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. How long was I out?”

 

He smirked, looking back to her out of the corner of his eye.

 

“Not long. About an hour. Maybe two. ”

 

“What?!” She jumped to her feet. “I’m late to meet with Josephine!” 

 

She hurried to the door, shooting him a stinkeye and tossing the blanket back at him when he snickered at her on her way out. 

 

-

 

Evelyn held back a smirk as she watched Cullen look for any sort of escape, unwittingly having wandered directly into a swarm of visiting nobles and dignitaries. Several of the Orlesian ones looked positively ravenous, and clearly he knew he was on their menu. 

 

“Lady Josephine neglected to inform us what a handsome man you are, Commander. Have you come to offer us a tour?”

 

“I-Uh, no, my apologies, but I’m afraid I’m a mite busy-”

 

“Oh but you simply must, Commander. An inside look of the Inquisitions forces sounds absolutely...tantalizing.”

 

She couldn’t hold back a small snort of laughter, hand slapping over her own mouth as the sound drew his attention. He gave her a pointed look, brows raised in a clear plea for help. With a grin, she stepped forward.

 

“Commander, there you are. I had wondered where you might be; you’re late to our meeting. How kind of you to offer your time to our esteemed guests.” She moved to his side, slipping her arm into his. 

 

“Y-yes, Inquisitor, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I must have lost track of the time.”

 

She turned back to the hoard with what she hoped was a pacifying smile. “Unfortunately, ladies and sers, I must steal the Commander away. I have vital business regarding our troop movements I must discuss with him. Please do enjoy your visit to Skyhold.”

 

She led him off, walking past the Inquisitor throne and towards her own chambers. He opened the door for her, before quickly darting inside himself. 

 

“Maker’s breath, they’re vultures!”

 

She finally let loose a peal of laughter as she watched him lean against the wall, head falling back in exasperation.

 

“Maker, Cullen, your face! You looked as though they wanted to eat you alive!”

 

“I’m not uncertain they wouldn’t! I was merely trying to get to the kitchens after going by Josephine’s office. I had no idea I was walking into a hornet’s nest.”

 

She grinned again, tilting her head toward the staircase. 

 

“Come on up. I’ve got a stash of mince pies Sera pinched from the kitchen upstairs. We can wait out the vultures a bit.”

 

-

 

“So from what I hear you caused quite a stir yesterday in front of the latest gaggle of visitors with our esteemed Commander. Anything you’d like to share with the class, my dear?” 

 

Evelyn looked up from the tome she was consulting, squinting across the table at Dorian.

 

“What?”

 

“From what the Orlesian’s are saying you all but dug your claws in and proclaimed ‘MINE,’ though Varric’s account is far more tame. But the common thread is that the two of you retreated to your quarters and didn’t emerge for quite some time.”

 

She rolled her eyes. 

 

“It was nothing. I was only helping him escape a bevy of admirers. He couldn’t make it to the kitchen without being mobbed, so I let him eat lunch upstairs with me.”

 

“Goodness, there is truth to it, you let him near your private pantry. Shall I inform Josephine to announce your intentions to woo the man?”

 

“Oh shove it, Dorian.”

 

\--

 

From then on it was small things. The sacks of supplies in the corner of his office were replaced with a small, plain chaise lounge, where she became a frequent figure, reading novels, writing reports, and just talking. In turn, a chess table appeared along one of the walls in her chambers, a fine ivory and onyx set atop it, where they would have long matches away from the gawking eyes in the Chantry gardens.

 

He shares good memories from his childhood in Honnleath, about daring his brother to climb the golem in the square and getting the scolding of his life when Branson fell and broke his arm. She shares stories of growing up learning to ride horses and about accidentally setting her doll on fire when her older brother Maxwell stole it from her and wouldn’t give it back. There’s an unspoken understanding and growth, subconsciously washing away the internalized boundaries of “mage” and “templar,” and all that remains is “friends.”

 

\--

 

“You’re going to catch your death if you don’t get that roof fixed.”

 

He looks up from his desk; she’s seated on the chaise again, nose deep in a book. A particularly strong breeze is making its way down through the entry to the loft. He grins before going back to his own paperwork.

 

“Hasn’t happened yet. What does it matter, it’s not like you’re the one sleeping there.”

 

“Well I might if I wasn’t afraid of getting a gift from a nesting bird. Goodness knows nobody would look for me there if I tried to get a nap.”

 

“Yeah, well you’re welcome to it anyway, but I don’t have a problem with it. It's my roof.”

 

He can practically hear her eyes roll. The next day a building crew arrives under orders “From the Inquisitor,” and he concedes and lets them do the work.

 

She does start sneaking up there for naps, and it’s not uncommon for him to join her.

 

\--

 

Surprisingly (or rather, unsurprisingly, considering what he’s learned of her), it’s Cassandra that gives him the most flack about it.

 

“You really should attempt to do something more romantic, you know. She might appreciate it more.”

 

He looks up from emptying the last of his water skin on the back of his neck, still trying to catch his breath from their rather vigorous sparring session. 

 

“Huh?”

 

“You know. Evelyn, of course. Wooing a woman it can’t all be war table meetings and chess matches. Where is the passion?”

 

“I’m not wooing her, Cassandra, so I can’t say that there is passion.”

 

She crosses her arms with a raised brow.

 

“You can’t honestly think I’ll buy that. I understand you two are trying to be... discrete, but as Varric might put it, you’d have to be living under a rock to not see it.”

 

He rolls his eyes, walknig to the armory to return the practice equipment, and Cassandra followed.

 

“There’s nothing to see. We’re simply peers.”

 

“Peers do not regularly spend the night in one another’s chambers,” she retorts with an imperiously raised brow. 

 

“Friends, then. Two grown adults who share common interests and a comfortable companionship.”

 

She makes that noise of disgust she is infamous for, putting her sword on the rack with more force than necessary.

 

“As you say, then. But I would suggest that you perhaps consider roses, maybe candles or the like during the next time you two seek ‘companionship.’ Varric’s books might also have good ideas. Not that I would know.”

 

Cullen rolled his eyes at the Seeker’s not-so-secret obsession with Varric’s books.

 

“Of course not. But the point is moot; we’re not together.”

 

Her wave is dismissive as she heads out the door, not turning back to him for any more of a response. 

 

\--

 

Evelyn knows about the lyrium, or at least suspects. She recognizes the symptoms but doesn’t ask because she knows he’s a man of pride and he will tell her when he’s ready. Cullen recognizes that the mark causes her pain when she thinks nobody is looking, and he doesn’t ask but is sure that she knows he is always there if she wishes to confide. But sometimes they sit in the war room after a meeting, and she’ll rub the tense muscles in his hands because one of her mentors told her that it helps with headaches. Other times they stand on her balcony and he lets her squeeze his hand until its white from blood loss as she tries not to sob and the mark flares bright in the window reflections. It helps.

 

\---

 

“So there’s a betting pool about us.”

 

She watches for his reaction, and he pauses as he reaches for one of the chess pieces. They’ve opted to have one of their chess matches in the garden, as they will be departing for the Winter Palace within a few days and Josephine has insisted that they be readily available. He shakes his head and moves the piece.

 

“What is it this time?”

 

“Well apparently we’re a couple.”

 

He snorts and she thinks he murmurs,”This again,” and she snickers, contemplating her next move. 

 

“Oh it gets better. Apparently there’s quite a few bets going around. Most of them to do with whether or not we’ve...done the do.”

 

He looks back up at her incredulously. “‘Done the do?’ What, as in intercourse?”

 

She outright giggles at his wording, before it ends in a snort. His grin in response to it has her moving her own chess piece with a little more force than necessary as she gives him a retaliating glare. “Yep. Apparently there’s a few of them about that. If we’ve done it, where we’ve done it, how soon you’ll knock me up…”

 

That earns an indignant sputter from him. “Maker’s breath! You can’t be serious.”

 

“It's true. Apparently a few people lost that one already.”

 

The shake of his head is decidedly resigned as he retaliated her move, capturing her piece.

 

“If we WERE in a relationship I’d be pretty put out by the invasion of our privacy. Who is the arbiter of this betting pool?”

 

“Who else? Varric. Checkmate.”

 

\---

 

“There you are. They’ve been looking for you.”

 

Evelyn looked up from her position at the balcony as Cullen walked out of the ballroom.

 

“Hey. I just needed some air. It's been...a long night.”

 

He walked up, reaching to rub lightly between her shoulder blades. She groaned softly, leaning into the touch.

 

“Well you did well. Our would be userper has been taken into custody, the Empress has been saved. You’ve earned a break.”

 

His hand stilled before moving to her shoulder and pulling her into his side. They stood quietly for a short while.

 

“Is it always going to be like this? Dragging uncooperative governments along by the ear, with us trying to save the world?”

 

He let out a small chuckle. “Well I’m sure eventually the saving the world part might happen as planned. I wouldn’t hold my breath on politicians cooperating though.”

 

She shook her head with a grin. “That sounds fair.”

 

He squeezed her shoulder, and she glanced back at the ballroom where the music was starting up again. She stepped away to look in from the doorway at the dance floor. 

 

“You know, I never was old enough to go to a ball before I ended up going to the Circle.”

 

“Truly?”

 

“No, I was only eight. I used to sit between the rungs of the balcony at the estate and watch though, until my governess would catch me. I was mad about it when I became young woman, mind you. I felt as though I had been denied this grand romantic thing. They don’t have dances at the Circle you know.”

 

“I am aware. I hear it has something to do with those blasted Templar skirts getting in the way of all that fancy footwork.”

 

She grinned back at him. “Oh is that what it was? Well, then I feel much better, knowing that you’re in the same boat as I.”

 

Cullen moved towards her, before making an exaggerated bow and offering his hand.

 

“Well neither of us is at the Circle now. Perhaps you would do a friend the courtesy of an attempt at a dance? Just so that we can both say we have,” he explained with a smirk.

 

“Why of course, Commander, I thought you’d never ask.”

 

\---

 

“Josephine is asking me if I might offer any insight into your ‘official,’ availability status,” Dorian begins, as he dragged Cullen down to the Herald’s Rest for drinks one night.

 

“Availability status?”

 

“Yes, you see, apparently no small number of requests of lineage have arrived since the ball at the Winter Palace, both for you and our dear Inquisitor, and Josephine is wondering if you two love birds might be willing to make some sort of official statement so that she can politely turn them away without anyone holding a grudge.”

“Why would anyone request...you’re serious. Why would any sort of statement make a difference as to whether or not someone holds a grudge...and there’s no ‘status’ to speak of.”

 

“Come now! Even you must see the grand romance of it all, the Orlesian’s love that. The mage and the Templar--”

 

“Not a templar-”

 

“-Freed from the constricts of a forbidden Circle relationship. Finding a beautiful, blossoming romance in the face of adversity, fighting for their happy ending so that they may someday ride off into the rose tinted sunset! Who could be upset at being jilted in the course of such a tale?”

 

“No one’s getting jilted because there’s nothing going on. Why does everyone in Skyhold have this delusion that the Inquisitor and I are...intimate? Is it truly that impossible to believe that a man and woman could be content with friendship? What about you and she? How is your friendship with her any different than mine?”

 

“The difference is that you are more my type than her, my friend. Unless you’ve decided to take a swing at the other team? In which case I would be happy--”

“No, Dorian.”

 

“Ah pity. You can’t blame a man for trying.”

 

\----

 

“So are you going to tell me why we’re in the middle of nowhere Ferelden?”

 

Evelyn dismounted her horse, tying the reins to a nearby tree as she looked out on the picture perfect lake. 

 

“I’ll have you know I happen to know exactly where we are,” Cullen quipped as he did the same with his own mount.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Indeed. We are in Honnleath.”

 

Her eyes widened as she looked around again. “Truly? I had no idea the Inquisition had dealings here.”

 

“We don’t. Well, not here specifically. It’s part of the Arling of Redcliffe, but there’s nothing truly of significance. In honesty, I wanted to give you an opportunity to get away from the duties of Inquisitor for a few moments. With the siege of Adamant looming...it is good to be some place quiet. This is somewhere I went often as a boy to clear my head; I’ve told you of my siblings, and you have your own. You know it can get...loud.”

 

“It can definitely be good to get away,” she smiled, as they walked out on the weather worn dock. She took a deep breath; They were on the edge of twilight, a low fog forming over the water as the air cooled and along the water’s edge were the beginnings of fireflies beginning to wake. “Its beautiful.”

 

He nodded, leaning against one of the well worn docking piles. “The last time I was here was the day I left for templar training.”

 

“A place of good memories then?” She asked as she sat down at the edge of the dock. She looked up to find him fiddling with a silver coin.

 

“Yes. My brother gave me this.” He showed her the coin. “Obviously just something he had in his pocket, but he said it was for luck. It was the only thing I kept from home.”

 

“Why Cullen, you broke the Order’s rules! A templar’s faith is supposed to carry him through, not superstitious tokens. I’m shocked!” She mock scolded. 

 

“Until a year ago I was very good at following the rules. Most of the time.”

 

“Of course you were,” she grinned, looking down out at the water. She hovered her foot over the water, playfully freezing the water directly under her before withdrawing it, then repeated the process as she spoke up again. 

 

“I had a small jeweled hairpin...the day that I left for the Circle, my mother helped me do my hair before the Templars came. She tucked it in underneath my braids and told me to keep it secret and it would bring me good luck. I hid it when I turned in my possessions as we arrived at the Circle, and I’d only sneak it into my hair for special occasions...Exams, passing off new spells, my Harrowing...I lost it the day of the Conclave.” She sighed wistfully. “Sometimes its good to believe in those things, even if they don’t actually hold any more power than what we attribute to them.”

 

She looked over as he joined her sitting down, dangling his own feet out over the water. She mischievously extended the frozen disc of water under her foot so that it was under his as well, and she was surprised but pleased at the show of trust when he leaned forward and prodded it with his own foot, biting his lip in the process. He leaned back again, fingering the coin once more. He then extended it to her.

 

“Here. For luck.”

 

“Oh Cullen, I couldn’t-”

 

“I insist. Goodness knows you need it more than me.” He placed it on the dock next to her hand. “Humor me? I know it’s foolish, but it would ease my mind if you had it. It can’t hurt.”

 

His smile was honest, and she sighed before picking up the coin and flipping it in her hand. 

 

“Fine. But I’m giving it back when this is done.”

 

“Deal,” he agreed, looking back out on the lake. He let out a content sigh which ended in a snort.

 

“It just occurred to me that the gossip mongers are going to read far more into this trip than it actually is.”

 

She flopped back on the deck with an amused groan.

 

\---

 

“So, wait, you two REALLY ain’t done the nasty yet? Wha’s the hold up? He just can’t get it up or somethin’?”

 

“Sera! We’re just FRIENDS, Maker! And it’s nobody’s business if Cullen has...difficulties….not that he has any!”

 

“Well, you would know, right? Still, two of you are daft. And I’m losin’ money, so you should just get on with it.”

 

“Sera!”

 

\---

 

“So Curly, I’ve got a quick question-”

 

“If this is about your blasted betting pool, you’ll get nothing from me. There IS nothing.”

 

“No, no, this has nothing to do with you and Stormy. This is more of a...hypothetical situation. For a book I’m writing. I’m looking for some insight into the mind of a soldier, can’t quite get it puzzled out.”

 

Cullen tentatively took the bait. “...Go on. I make no promises though.”

 

“See, I’ve got this character...he’s wooing his lady, but he’s trying to be quiet about it. Doesn’t like much of a fuss himself, he’s a simple man, you know. What would be a realistic gesture for him to show he cares for his lady? As a simple man. My readers are getting tired of my sarcastic, suave rake characters so I’m having to try something new.”

 

“I...I don’t know, I can’t say I’ve particularly given the idea much thought.” He tried to avoid squirming under the dwarf’s gaze. “Isn’t there someone better to ask? What about Iron Bull? Actually, no, forget I said that, I know exactly why you can’t ask Iron Bull. What about Blackwall?”

 

“Hero’s all wrapped up in his fancy courtship with Ruffles. Entirely too Orlesian for this piece. I’m going for realistic, not steeped in all that grandiose ceremony of the Game that Ruffles likes.”

 

Cullen paused for a moment, before giving a helpless shrug. 

 

“I honestly can’t think of anything that might be of assistance to your novel. If you’ll excuse me, I promised the Inquisitor that I’d arrange to have her lunch delivered to her chambers when she arrives back and her team has been spotted coming up the mountain pass.”

 

As he turned away he heard Varric chuckle lowly. 

 

“Nevermind, I think it’ll come to me. For some reason I think I’ve got an idea.”

 

\---

 

Cullen was going to be so mad at her.

 

Evelyn fought against the blackness creeping in on the edges of her vision, unable to pull herself up further than her knees. The last kick from the dragon’s hindquarters had winded her and knocked her yards back as well as its claws digging in deep past her armor, if the slowly growing patch of red on from her stomach was any indication. She also had a sneaking suspicion that her arm was broken. Again.

 

The decision to not bring along a mage with healing specializations on the way home from Adamant may have been a bad choice, in hindsight. Though in her defense, they hadn’t actually planned on engaging a dragon on the way home to Skyhold. 

 

She gripped her staff again, gritting her teeth as she attempted to use it to leverage herself onto her feet, but cried out as the wound in her stomach screamed in protest. Her vision went dark again around the edges and a sudden wave of vertigo found her falling to her side. As Iron Bull let out a mighty roar, her surroundings warped and wobbled violently. She closed her eyes for just a moment as she waited for things to stop spinning.

 

“Hey, hey, come on, Stormy. Eyes open.”

 

She groaned as she felt Varric lightly tapping her face, trying to find the strength to swat his hand away but failing.

 

“No.”

 

“Now what would Curly say about that, huh? You just gonna bleed out, leave your man behind?”

“S’not my man…”

 

“Sure he isn’t. Tiny, get over here. You got any potions?”

 

“I’m out.”

 

“I do.”

 

She felt Cole make his way to her side, squinting up at his hat silhouetted in the afternoon sun.

 

“Her arm hurts,” he said softly, gently probing from her elbow down to her wrist. As he tried to angle her hand, she let out a low moan of pain.

 

“Yep, definitely broken. You gotta help me set this, kid, before we give her that potion. Hold her steady. We don’t get this fixed, Curly’s gonna have our heads when they catch up.”

 

Evelyn grit her teeth as Cole gripped her arm, but when Varric actually set the bone she couldn’t hold back a screech of pain.

 

“There we go, Stormy. Cole, give her the potion. Tiny, toss me another bandage.”

 

Her vision was creeping black again as she felt a small vial pressed to her lips. She had barely swallowed before she felt unconsciousness claim her again.

 

\---

 

Cullen paced back and forth in front of the tent. It had been nearly an hour since the Inquisitor’s party had returned to the main company with her bloodied and broken in Iron Bull’s arms. Currently Vivienne and Solas were working on her injuries, but so far no one had come out of the medic tent. 

 

“Curly, sit down, you’re making us dizzy with the pacing here. She’s gonna be fine.”

 

He immediately turned as Varric spoke, ire piqued.

“Explain to me exactly how engaging a dragon only days after Adamant was a good idea?”

 

Varric held his hands up in an appeasing gesture.

 

“It’s not like it was intentional. I was under the impression that usually when a dragon swoops in on you, you don’t get much say in the matter.”

 

Cullen felt much of his steam escape him, though the knot of anxiety in his chest did not ease. Suddenly drained of energy, he dropped onto a log next to the dwarf.

 

“My apologies. I don’t know what’s come over me.”

 

Varric offered him a flask from his satchel. Cullen took it and threw back a swig before handing it back.

 

“I get it, Curly. It’s not easy to be level headed when the woman you love gets kicked in the stomach by a high dragon.”

 

He opened his mouth to automatically deny the implication as he had dozens of times before, but froze when it suddenly all clicked.

 

‘Oh.’

 

The sudden knowledge that Varric, that Dorian, that everyone was, in fact, right hit him like a load of stones. And he’d not even noticed. He was in love with Evelyn.

 

Anxiety was suddenly overwhelmed by complete disbelief at his own stupidity. He didn’t have long to think on it, however, as Vivienne and Solas finally emerged from the tent. Cullen jumped to his feet and hurried over. Before he could even say anything, the elf raised a hand placatingly.

 

“The Inquisitor is fine. Madame Vivienne and I have repaired the majority of the damage. She merely needs to rest. She should be ready to move in the morning when the main camp continues on back to Skyhold.”

 

Cullen nodded his thanks, before ducking into the semi-darkness of the tent. After his eyes adjusted, he moved to sit in the chair next to her cot, tentatively reaching to take her hand. As he looked down at her, he was suddenly struck again at his own stupidity in not recognizing his own feelings for the woman.

 

Admittedly, he had always found her attractive. He knew that he had a ‘type,’ and she was definitely it. While it was slightly dulled and matted at the moment, he had always found her long, curly red hair incredibly fetching, so very different from the unruly curls he battled every day on his own head. It was braided now out of practicality in the field, but when she was home at Skyhold she often left it loose and wild. When coupled with her charming freckles, expressive green eyes and her wide grin, the thought of it now made his chest feel tight with emotion. How could he not have seen?

 

“You’ve got a stormcloud on your face.”

 

He nearly jumped as she spoke, finding those green eyes looking up at him tiredly. She smiled. 

 

“You that disappointed I survived?”

 

He let out a snort at her ability to joke, squeezing her hand as he leaned toward her with elbows on his knees.

 

“Hardly. Simply contemplating how many times you can take on the odds and actually emerge victorious. Most people aren’t okay after taking on a high dragon, you know.”

 

She chuckled, before wincing slightly, eyes scrunching shut.

 

“So I’ve heard. Still, practice makes perfect, you know. Corypheus has one. Might as well get some experience for when the time comes.”

 

He makes a noise of agreement, and the two of them fall into silence. She squeezed his hand as she breathed slowly, eyes still closed and he wondered if it feels as tense for her, or if his own realizations are coloring his emotions. His thoughts turned to words regarding the uncertain future looming over them and suddenly, the unspoken was just too much.

 

“Evelyn, I-”

 

He cut himself off, not even sure what he wanted to say. She opened her eyes, regarding him curiously. He tried desperately to read her, hoping to see some sort of familiarity or...something similar to the foreign emotions he was struggling with. With a frustrated sigh, he hangs his head.

 

“Maker’s breath,” he muttered, looking away. “I don’t even know…”

 

He moved to pull away, but her hand tightened on his. He stoped, before taking it in both of his, head bowed as he pressed their joined hands to his forehead, praying for calm. Impulsively, he pressed a firm kiss to her knuckles, wishing that he were a more eloquent man.

 

His eyes dart up at her sharp intake of breath, and found her eyes wide, mouth slightly parted in surprise. Suddenly the air in the tent became tense with unspoken words and an emotional intimacy they had both failed to recognize for ages. 

 

After what felt like an eternity, a sunny smile broke across her face.

 

“Maker, I’m an idiot.”

 

It wasn’t the words he expected, let alone the ones he hoped for, but as the journey of the two of them have been taking plays across his mind’s eye, it means the same thing and possibly even more. The grin on his face felt impossibly big and a deep laugh escaped him as he pressed a firmer kiss to her knuckles.

 

“I’m an idiot, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> This author thrives on hearing what you thought or if you had a favorite part! Comments are adored and printed out to keep in my wallet. :P


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